Now it turns out I like to do batch cooking. We are the person I would have tried to avoid being if, five or ten years ago, someone had told me that I would end up doing this on a Sunday: preparing a two-liter pot of vegetable cream to put in Tupperware for the whole week. The worst part—and what makes me even more the person I would have hated to be—is that it's therapeutic. For the two hours my ritual lasts, I'm only focused on this. It's not exactly an achievement, even though I've discovered a new way to meditate. It's just that having three different food preparations going forces you to be quite focused. It terrifies me to think that I've found satisfaction in this hyper-productivity: having half the week's meals sorted in the middle of the afternoon. What a shame.